Sentimental
by PanicWithAsh
Summary: The thing about Dean and Seth is that they would never be done. Ambrollins. Slight trigger warnings (such as minor injury/small amount of blood), hate-sex with feelings.


_Disclaimer: The author is in no way, shape, or form in any form of association with World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE), any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything else. I just wrote the thing. Please enjoy._

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The thing about Dean and Seth is that they would never be done. From the moment they met, they knew that it would be a roller coaster for them and they knew that it would never be over for them. They _fought_. That's what brought them together in the first place. Seth was all tactical and Dean was out of his mind, but in the end, they were both headstrong and they found _common ground_ when they realized just how strong the other was. Roman just tries to keep the peace between them because they were _brothers_ and that's what _brothers _did.

But there were so much more to it than that.

Brothers didn't do the things that Dean and Seth did. Brothers didn't push and shove until there's nothing but skin against skin and harsh breathing. There was something deeper here. Something harsher and less innocent than just being brothers and for as long as it went on, they both should have known it wouldn't have ended when Seth turned on them. When Seth _betrayed them_. Blood pacts, family dynamics, they were supposed to be a team and that little… Temper. He has to stabilize his temper.

It's always his temper that gets him.

It was a game. It was a sign. After Seth tucked his tail between his legs and ran off to become a _big star _with the Authority, it never ended. It was a shove. It was a punch. It was them having a full out brawl because _Dean couldn't believe he didn't see it. He couldn't believe he never saw that Seth was slipping through their fingers, their joined hands, waiting for the perfect moment to stab them in the back. _It was agonizing. It was just another train of thought that lead to madness.

After the shoves, the punches, the brawls, they always knew what happened next. After the shows, after the lights flickered off in the other Authority members' bedchambers, it was time to play. One of them would always find themselves heading down the hallways of the hotel; whoever was the one to strike first. It was poison. It was a drug. It was eating away at them but they could never get enough. The knocks were similar. It was their own secret 'let me in.' It crawled along their skin until they opened the door and let the other in.

It never started out slow. This wasn't romance, this was a release. A release from all of the pent up frustrations that they had from the choices that they had made. A release from all of the pent up anger at each other that would never stop them from falling into bed together. It was rough like their brawls but the end was always so much more of a bone deep relaxation. They never spoke after. It would be useless, what would they say? It wasn't love. It had _never been about love_ (but still there's a little nagging flutter in his gut when Dean saw that two-toned hair).

It hadn't been going right for a while now. There's something on Seth's face when they finish and Dean's dressing, like he's trying to figure out how to word something. The latest time, Seth tried to say something, but Dean isn't going to play this game (he's not going to get sucked in and have his heart played with. _He's not going to fall for some sob story about why Seth left them in the first _place). When Dean gets back to his hotel room, some extra charges are placed after he breaks the bathroom mirror. He can't keep doing this, but he can't think about stopping.

It was the August 18th edition of Raw. Dean pours ice water over Seth's head just to see him squirm. It's a trend, can't hurt, right? It's a peace offering. They hadn't seen each other in ages. Dean himself was getting restless but he can't just go to Seth's room for no good reason, right? It had to stay in their routine. Brawling to release some of the anger and having sex that was just like the brawl to rid themselves of it completely until the next time.

The look on Seth's face is worth it and Dean is going on the attack. They're pulled apart and Dean almost doesn't catch it. 'It's over, we're done', words that were along that line. He can't let it show, but Dean feels it somewhere deep inside of him and he doesn't believe him. He doesn't. He doesn't believe him until he runs his head through a pile of cinder blocks. At that point, any reasonable man would get a hint and stop trying (_but the thing about Dean is he doesn't live to be reasonable. He lives for the brawl. [somewhere deep inside, he lives for Seth]_).

Night comes and there's no knock on the door because Dean can't knock. He's in the hospital feeling once more like Seth had stuck a knife in him and didn't look back as he was bleeding out. Seth was moving on to _better things_. They were moving on to different parts in their life because Seth's Daddy was pulling the strings now and that two-toned beauty of a man wasn't in control of his own body anymore, but that was okay, because Dean would just have to knock him down a few pegs when he comes back.

Roman is out of commission, that's one of the reasons Dean comes back. Roman has emergency surgery and Dean couldn't just let Seth walk away without getting a beating for what he's done. It's a triumph, on Dean's behalf, he feels. (_He's going to make Seth's life a living _hell_ and watch him beg him to save him when he falls to the flames. You're nothing to me, Seth. There's nothing left of me that belongs to you [but at the same time I would give you anything you needed if you just said the word]_).

Seth has such a pretty, expressive face. Dean's so glad that some of the times when his face are the most expressive are because of _him and him alone._ (_Those nights spent together, skin slapping against skin, the smell of sex clinging to the air, their breathing mixing, Seth's pretty lips parted as nothing but little, tiny soft moans past through them; Dean's name the only word he could remember_).

He didn't try to knock on his hotel door that night. What was the point? Seth said they were done, it was over, and Dean had survived five weeks without it, he could certainly last longer. There was nothing about Seth that was going to cling to him any long. Emotions were being pushed aside (_but if it was that easy, then why hadn't he just done it before? If it was that easy, why didn't he call it quits when he had the chance before they even came to the WWE and save them both the trouble? The answer is because it wasn't that easy and Dean knew it. [You're trapped in my head, I can't get you out, you're under my skin, I want you gone but it will never be over, Seth. It will _never _be over]_).

The next night on Raw, Dean doesn't want to be the one that attacks first. He didn't want to be the one to continue their little affair. He didn't want to be the one that was weak and just led them to that same position that they were in before. They were over. That's what Princess said, wasn't it? They were over and that's just how things had to be. (_Isn't that right, Seth, isn't that what you wanted? Of course it is. You want nothing more than to see me fall apart [and I might just end up giving you the pleasure of watching it happen]_).

It was later when Dean is attacked in the ring by Seth that he feels it, that familiar pull, that desperate need, that sense that he has a thirst that will never be quenched. It's fury, it's rage, all piling up in him and it feels like it's pressing down on his lungs (_on his heart_) and he can't seen an escape. But if a fight is what Seth wants, a fight is what Seth will get. (_I thought you said it was over. Dean remembers yelling. I thought you said we were done. They were all just more lies, weren't they? The fucking–_)

What he doesn't expect is to be locked in a fucking closet. Mature, Authority. Very mature. He could have sworn he came out of one of these things already, but this one was a bit more complex than the metaphoric ones he had in mind. Telling himself all of the jokes he could about 'coming out of the closet' to keep himself sane, he finds his way out, just in time to save Cena's sorry ass (_Really now, John, can't you do _anything _on your own? I don't do this team dynamic thing anymore. I warned you to get out of my way and now you just painted a target on your back. Leave what's _mine _alone and deal with the other two, hmm?_)

Seth makes a break for it before Dean can get his hands on him and Dean feels like he's burning alive as he stares at the male in the oceans of fans, but it's like they don't even exist. Cena's saying something in the background to Seth, but he can't focus enough to listen. Cena doesn't have the background with Seth like he does. He doesn't have that desperate game of tug and pull. This is merely business for John, because his title shot was ruined. No, what was going on between Seth and Dean was _personal_ (_but Seth's talking too much right now, interacting too much, and Dean knows they're just falling back into that little emotion game of theirs. The fans are reacting somewhere behind him; Cena must be interacting. Rule number one, Johnny-Boy, never turn your back on the enemy_).

Dean doesn't know how it happens, but at some point, he's backstage, and then he's in his hotel and his skin is crawling just like it always does when he's in this position. Dean wasn't too big of a fan of _the waiting game._ But he knows it will be worth it. He knows that once he finally gets Seth gasping beneath him (_mm, or _above _him_) it'll all be worth it.

A knock comes. It's not their usual tempo. It's off and Dean sits there in silence for a good minute before it comes again. This time, it makes his stomach flutter because _of course he remembered. _He's so good at that.

He stands from the bed. He's already out of most of his clothes. He felt like he was still burning alive and he can't get the fire out of him. He's livid. He wants to punch a wall but the last time he broke something in the hotel, he got a very stern talking to.

He doesn't bother looking through the peephole because the electricity going through his veins just gains the closer he gets to the door. The knob is cold on his fiery skin and there's suddenly adrenaline rushing through his veins when the door is forced open faster and suddenly, he has his arms full of the Authority's little princess.

Their lips collide – not really their lips, actually; there's more teeth and tongue than anything, a battle, a brawl – and Dean feels his heart hammering faster, those fucking butterflies fluttering away. He hears the door close – he assumes Seth must have kicked it closed, the impatient little bitch – and Dean is pulling at Seth's clothes like they were on fire (_fire, _fire_, he feels like he's still on fire. The fury, the rage. Control, he needs to take _control).

So he does.

He pushes Seth away hard, onto the other wall, pulling his shirt roughly over his head and discarding it before he's pushing away at the pants that were already hanging low on Seth's hips. A look down tells Dean that Seth isn't wearing shoes and isn't that the cutest darn thing, hmm? Little Princess strolling around kingdom grounds in nothing but his bare feet. How _endearing._

Seth makes a soft noise that sounds almost like he's dying when Dean gets all of his clothes off and it hasn't even been two minutes since the two-toned hair man got here. Dean can't help but smile, his heart still pumping adrenaline, as his fingers cleverly – slowly, smoothly – tease along the other's shaft.

The sound _that _pulls from him is like a glass of water being offered to a dehydrated man.

It's been too long. Five long weeks and Dean feels like all of the rage from being coped up at home knowing he couldn't do a damn thing beginning to come to the surface again. Seth tries to push his hips into Dean's touch, but Dean slams him back into the wall.

Seth's eyes fly open and their gazes are locked together, pupils equally dilated, their breathing harsh. Seth licks his lips and Dean feels a moment of fear go through him as he watches Seth's lips part to talk and that can't happen again, that's what caused so much trouble the last time and Dean doesn't want to go through that again.

Their lips collide as Dean tries to save their _whatever this is _and he's leading them to the bed, pushing Seth onto it and kneeling above him, chuckling darkly against Seth's lips before pulling away again.

"Little sheep found his way into the lion's den again," he growls out, his nails raking down Seth's side because there's nothing he loves more than to watch the other man arch into it, a half-pained-half-pleasured gasp leaving his lips and his head throwing back ever so slightly. His neck is exposed, but they already know there are no marks left where they can't be excused. "Little golden boy finds his way into the bed of the _neighborhood lunatic once more_."

Seth bares his teeth some and that just seems to sum up their entire _whatever this is_, doesn't it? It's animalistic. It's bared. It's inhuman. There's nothing about this that makes it mean anything.

"Ambrose, I swear to–…" Seth tries (_oh does he try. He always makes the cutest attempts at threats when we're like this, but he's always the one that ends up incoherent by the end of our little _therapy sessions),

"Shh," Dean hushes him, smirking as he grinds his hips forward, feeling Seth's shaft getting ever harder against his thigh as he does so. Seth's mouth snaps shut with an audible click and he grinds back up into him, brows creasing. He's always so much more _expressive_ when they're here. When Dean's in charge. "I'm going to take care of you just like I always have. I know you want me to. Only reason why you would walk your pretty little ass to my room, isn't that right, Sethie?"

Seth bares his teeth again, his eyes opening to glare at Dean, but then their hips are grinding together and both of their brains hit a bit of a shortage as all of their blood went down south. "Off," Seth gasps out and for a moment, Dean thought he was telling him to _get off_, but when Mr. Money in the Bank tugs at his boxers, he knows what he wants.

Dean does so, but takes his sweet time because he doesn't work for anyone but himself, after all. Seth just watches like the good little boy that he is and Dean is beginning to realize this is getting less about the battle and more about the fact that they were just together again (_and wasn't that just a dangerous train of though_).

His jaw clenches and he presses his fingernails hard into Seth's thighs, scratching down them hard enough to leave prominent red marks before he's hooking hands under his knees and jerking him to the edge of the bed. Seth glares at him for the manhandling, but his cheeks color deliciously when Dean slaps a hand down onto his thigh hard.

Dean reaches for the bag that he kept at the end of the bed, pulling out the lube and a condom that he kept in there (_just for this oh-so-special occasion when it comes. He finds no one can replace Seth when it comes to the bedroom. It was never the same_) and slapping Seth's other thigh for effect.

"You're so pretty where you're all red," Dean coos at him, his grin smug, challengingly. "All laid out for me on your back like the little bitch you are."

"Bite me," Seth hisses out, but his eyes are locked onto where Dean is slicking up his fingers. "You're just a lowlife. Wouldn't have been anything without me in the first place, bitch."

Sometimes, Dean thinks maybe it's true. His heart aches every day that he and Seth are fighting, but at the same time, it's been the best time of his life, with the fans behind him every step of the way. So, he chooses to ignore it and continue on like Seth never talked.

"Bet you could hardly stand those weeks you were alone, hmm, Sethie? The Authority's golden boy without a proper cock up his ass. Bet you got a little… jumpy. Irritable. But I could have sworn one of the last things you said to me was that we were _done._"

Dean takes this time to lock eyes with Seth, whose face was distorting with mixed emotions, and push his finger into his entrance without warning. Seth arches his back off the bed, feet planting on the floor, his teeth clenching together.

"Mother _fucker_, that's cold, you asshole!" Seth barks at him and Dean can't help but give a cocky smile as he waits for Seth to relax around his fingers. "I'm going to kick your skull in."

"Oh, yes, I'm so scared," Dean says, snickering as he finally feels tight rings of muscle give way. He crooks his finger just so, to where he knows Seth's sweet spot is (_he knew everything about Seth much too well, he doesn't think it's healthy, but nothing he does could really be considered healthy)_ and revels in the way he arches again, a soft breathless noise leaving those lips that are not as red as they should be.

Dean leans down, capturing his mouth with his and beginning to prep the other for the activities that they were both dying to get too. Dean's hand slaps harshly against Seth's thigh again with his free hand, before he's scratching down it again. He's up to three fingers in no time and wants to make a snarky comment, but before he can, Seth is hooking a leg around Dean and flipping them over so he's straddling him. Dean's fingers slip free.

"You take too fucking long. Starting to think you're going soft on me. Sentimental. Nothing about this is sentimental, Dean."

The words strike Dean to the core and he stares up at Seth for a moment before his hand is smacking down hard onto Seth's side, the slap making his hand sting and Seth jerk away, his face contorting in pain.

"There's nothing about this that is sentimental, Rollins. You're the one who came to me. I think you need to look at your own actions and think them over."

His voice is venomous and they're left without that sort of… lighter atmosphere. All joking and _hope_ gone from Dean's demeanor. He should have known better.

"Put the condom on my cock and be a good little whore and ride me," Dean bites out, his eyes still locked on Seth's, "Or you can go find someone else to convince to give you what you want and _really_, I would love to hear all about that accomplishment."

The air is heavy, it smells of sweat and just the faintest smell of sex as of right now. They stare at each other, daring the other to look away, and after about 30 seconds, Seth does. Just to rip open the condom and slide it onto Dean's shaft, positioning himself over it, and sinking down.

_Tight heat_ is what becomes the highlight of Dean's night. It's almost enough to make his heart stop beating, his lungs stop functioning. Five weeks without this. Five weeks without watching Seth's frame tremble as all of Dean's shaft stretches him, filling him up, little gasping breathes being made as he grinds down to get himself to adjust.

Dean's hands wrap around his waist, nails biting into skin, causing another shudder. Seth's hands settle on Dean's chest, threateningly close to his neck. Then, he starts to move.

It takes a minute for Seth to adjust fully to this position, to the stretch of Dean's girth, but soon, it's just like it always was. Fast, hard, unforgiving, ruthless; just like the way they fought. Seth is scratching red lines down Dean's chest, his eyes a clash between fury and passion and Dean slaps his hands down onto Seth's ass, gripping and spreading, pulling him down harder as he thrusts up, glad to have his feet planted firmly on the floor.

Seth looks like he's trying to say something _again_ and Dean feels that anger bubbling up high in him. He flips them over, his hands gripping onto Seth's waist hard and beginning to pound into him, his breathing harsh, sweat pooling at his brow.

People always said that exercise was a good release for anger and maybe it should be easier for Dean, considering he's a pro wrestler and all, but really, that only did so much. Some things were personal. This was personal.

Seth's hands are rising, gripping at Dean's hair and tugging him down into a kiss to muffle the moans he was trying to suppress, his hips rolling with every thrust. It was almost like it used to be, but Dean didn't want to fool himself.

He bites down hard enough on Seth's lip to taste blood and he's pulling back again, satisfied with himself, his nails biting into his waist once more.

"Not gonna last much longer," Dean breathes out, his eyes locking on Seth's, both of their eyes alight with fury. "And if I come before you do, you're dealing with yourself."

Seth's brow furrows for just a moment, as if offended, and he's reaching down shakily as another breathy noise leaves him. Dean thinks that he's going for his own shaft, but instead he's grabbing at Dean's hand, guiding it to his shaft.

"Make yourself useful," Seth gasps out, his eyes closing as he throws his head back, Dean angling to get his thrusts just perfect each time.

"Oh trust me, princess, I'm making myself plenty useful," Dean growls out, his voice breathless, but his fingers are wrapping around Seth and jerking hard and in sync with his thrusts.

The sounds Seth makes sound like he's dying and Dean's other hand moves to cover his mouth because Seth's dumb ass seems to have forgotten that they were supposed to be quiet (_not that Dean cared. Wouldn't it be just great if Seth lost his place with the Authority because he was fucking the enemy?_).

Within moments, Seth was coming hot across his own stomach and the clenching of his muscles around Dean's shaft sends Dean over the edge as well, his entire body tensing and the only noise he makes being a satisfied grunt.

He collapses against Seth for just a moment, before he's pulling out, disposing the condom, and pulling his boxers back on. Seth watches him.

"Can I shower here?" It's a simple question, almost like a peace offering.

"You sure sound sentimental," Dean answers.

Within minutes, Seth is gone.

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_**Hey guys, Ash here~ Thanks so much for reading!  
It would mean the world to me if you guys left reviews!  
Reviews = love!**_

_**Be prepared to see me coming onto the Ambrollins scene with a vengeance.  
There are a lot of stories I want to write and there is going to be very little pauses between them.**_


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